


Why Won't You Wear Your New Trench Coat?

by GasDancer



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Crossdressing, Lace Panties, M/M, because my brain is a little pissbaby and it has to add angst to everything, blond Miles, but no braces because im still mourning; be respectful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21810994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasDancer/pseuds/GasDancer
Summary: ''His dread is not comforted the least bit when Alex barrels through the door, barely making eye contact and not even muttering a "hello". This is it, Miles thinks as he closes the door, terror seizing him up like a fist. He's come to end it once and for all. There was no recovery, not really, and the past week was just a blip on a very dark radar. It's only as he starts coming to terms with his fate, eyes raking Alex's body up and down to commit him to memory, that he realises Alex's calves are bare under the thick, black trench coat.''
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66
Collections: Milex Big Bang 2019





	Why Won't You Wear Your New Trench Coat?

**Author's Note:**

> My Big Bang entry was originally going to be an entry of Young Volcanoes, but since I'm doing that anyway and I didn't wanna rush it, here is some gratuitous smut instead!

For all intents and purposes, it's been a momentous week.

Things between him and Alex had been off for the better part of a year. Alex was prone to miserable moods since he’d met him, withdrawing when his darkest thoughts took control, but this time it had been bigger, worse in every way imaginable, and they’d ended up nearly estranged after the storm passed. In the beginning he was hurt, and angry, and frustrated, letting the sadness consume him too, but he’d angrily cut that short, making a point of dealing with his demons in a better way, a healthier way. He'd been going out with friends ( _ his _ friends, not  _ theirs _ ), he'd moderated his drinking habits, and he'd been harnessing all that internal turmoil, packing it into lyrics and chords and jumping back into the studio before tour had even ended. With every passing month he'd felt more grounded, more solid, less and less like Alex had left a gaping hole in his life. Besides, that man with the shaved head and the bottomless eyes didn't much resemble the Alex he loved anymore. It was almost easy to pretend he was someone else, to act like Alex had vanished into thin air and convince himself he could move on.

It was all a load of bollocks, of course. Months passed, and all it had taken was a mere phone call from him, his earnest and apologetic tone filtering through the hot summer day like a breeze, for Miles to become putty in his hands all over again. It wasn't long until they were making plans to meet up, and Miles was making himself presentable in the mirror with the frayed nerves of a sixteen-year-old dressing up to pick up his date for a game at the arcade. He'd gone through many changes this year too, not all of them emotional. For the first time ever his hair wasn't chestnut brown, but a bright blond buzzcut, and there was a little silver hoop dangling from his left ear. Mor and more things separating them nowadays, he realised. They used to be like twins back in the day, and they reveled in it. Now they couldn't look more different.

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Difference or not, his heart still galloped in his chest when Alex opened the door to his house, looking bright-eyed and healthy, mop of hair bouncing with his every move, as if to delineate his mood. After a moment's pause Alex had engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug, and he'd been overcome with love so forcefully he’d wanted to cry. Maybe he had a little, surreptitiously wiping his eyes over Alex's soft smelling shirt.

They'd sat over drinks, talking endlessly about anything and everything as if no time had passed at all, and then Alex's hair had lifted to his hair, fingers dipping into the blond strands. "I like it." He'd smiled, eyes creasing adorably with age and laughter. "It's very you."

His hand was scratching idle patterns on the top of his scalp, sending a warm rush all the way down to his stomach, and then his hand had slid downwards, dragging along the finely cropped hair at his nape. This is how he used to do it, Miles thought with his blood rushing, when he had the buzzcut. This is how he would rub his prickly scalp to feel the burn against his palm, during gigs, and interviews, and long sweaty nights when he'd be bouncing against his lap.

He wasn't thinking before closing the distance, and suddenly he was feeling Alex's chapped lips against his own, the light burn of his stubble against his chin. He sensed Alex's small, satisfied sigh before it left his throat, and then they were scrambling off their chairs, madly groping at every inch of skin they could get at.

It was as if they hadn't been apart for a second.

It had been a full week since then, and they'd sank back into their old routine like slipping on a pair of old leather shoes, trusted and well-worn. The separation was casting a shadow over them at first, but they'd been working tirelessly to bring everything back into the light. If there was anything Miles had learned last year, it was the merit of working towards his best self, and appreciating all his blessings.

Which is why when Alex shows up at his doorstep clutching at his coat lapels for dear life, with a look of pure anxiety contorting his features, his heart skips a beat, and then another, for good measure.

His dread is not comforted the least bit when Alex barrels through the door, barely making eye contact and not even muttering a "hello". This is it, Miles thinks as he closes the door, terror seizing him up like a fist. He's come to end it once and for all. There was no recovery, not really, and the past week was just a blip on a very dark radar. It's only as he starts coming to terms with his fate, eyes raking Alex's body up and down to commit him to memory, that he realises Alex's calves are bare under the thick, black trench coat.

"You're breaking up with me in shorts?"

Alex stops fidgeting at that, and his eyes focus on Miles for the first time since he walked in the house, perplexed. "What?"

Alright, it's probably not the thing he should be focusing on in this situation, but damn it, if Alex is gonna pull the rug from under his feet and set him back into depression, the least he can do is dress appropriately for it.

"M'not breaking up with you." Alex says, effectively cutting through Miles' inner turmoil. He looks more painted than ever, though, which doesn't bode well either. He snorts out an annoyed breath, rubbing angrily at his face. "Jesus, great fuckin' start." He levels a gaze at Miles, swallowing, and Miles cocks an eyebrow, waiting. "I just thought--" Alex starts, pauses, scrunches up his nose adorably, and starts again. "I remembered what you said -- and I figured, why not y'know? And I've--" he sweeps a palm over his form, and Miles is not exactly enlightened, but he's not sure where ot begin asking either, so he just nods. Alex huffs out another tortured sigh, annoyed at himself, or at Miles, and then his hand undoes the buttons of his coat, letting it drop dramatically to the floor.

Any thought Miles was having about how cute Alex is when he gets flustered vaporises in the span of a second.

Alex is dressed in a tight white t-shirt, accentuating his arms and the barely-there curve of his belly, but he's not wearing shorts, as Miles initially assumed. Under the t-shirt is a tiny red-and-green checkered skirt, like the scraps of a kilt. Alex's thighs curve obscenely under the hem, thick and firm. He'd lost so much weight during the worst of it, neglecting himself and withering away, but he'd managed to return from the brink, and now he looked pink and supple again, like the best days of their puppets tour. 

Miles wants to maul him.

Alex is still looking at him like a deer in the headlights. "Well?" He says, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, because he's right there in Miles' living room, in a bloody skirt, just ‘cause Miles made the offhand comment one time that his thighs would look sinful in a schoolgirl outfit, laughing into his neck, and now Alex was right there in front of him, answering the call. "Say summat." 

Miles doesn't have much to say, if he's being honest, so he simply crowds Alex to the sofa armrest by way of reply, kissing him firmly and snaking two hands down to grope at the flesh of his bum through the fabric. He can feel Alex's relieved exhale gusting over his cheek, and then Alex is winding an arm around him too, hand flying back to balance himself on the armrest. 

"Can't believe you did that," Miles snickers, descending onto Alex's neck, gratified at the little gasp of pleasure when he starts sucking a bruise. "Did you actually go into the tube like that?"

Alex laughs shakily, arm sneaking under Miles' shirt to roam on his naked back. "I did, yeah. Weren’t exactly comfortable at first, but the more it went on the more I felt…naughty."

The last word is lower in pitch, murmured right against Miles' ear, and Miles shivers at the thought. There are toilet stalls across Europe that can attest to how Alex gets when he starts feeling  _ naughty _ , and Miles feels heat pool in his groin at the idea of a reprise. They've been almost careful with each other this past week, rediscovering their limits, but clearly Alex feels like taking a leap, and Miles will be damned if he's not going to be right there with him, grabbing his hand and jumping alongside him.

They start kissing eagerly again, and he grins into Alex's mouth as he's maneuvered to sit properly on the sofa, Alex settling his warm, comfortable weight on his lap, knees spreading at his sides, letting the skirt hike up just a bit further. Miles' hands find Alex's thighs, groping and squeezing at the firmness, and he trails his hands upwards, in search of the holy Grail. His palms glide up, smooth over Alex's skin, and then plunge under the hem where--

Where instead of finding the cotton of Alex's briefs, or even total emptiness, as he might have expected, he's met with the barest hint of lace, textured under the pads of his fingers.

He looks up at Alex, and his eyes must look like saucers because he is faced with that tiny smirk Alex puts on when he successfully manages to throw him off his game.

"Wouldn't be complete without a pair of knickers, right?" 

Miles doesn't wait to listen to more, because he's already throwing Alex down onto the sofa, making his skirt ride up even further, and now he can see it all clearly; under the tiny skirt Alex is in nothing but a dainty pair of lace knickers, white and frilly, curving and molding onto every single inch of his anatomy, and Miles almost wants to ask if it's uncomfortable, but he doesn't need to. Alex is stretching like a cat underneath him, smirk widening even further, and the lace is straining against his arousal, like it's going to rip at the slightest movement. Miles can even make out the ridge of the head, for Christ's sake, swelling under the patterns of the see-through material.

"You're trying to kill me." He mumbles with a grin of his own, hastily yanking off Alex's t-shirt and tossing it to the floor. "I'm over thirty y'know, yer giving me a heart condition." He's not even sure he's joking, 'cause his heart is beating in his chest so demandingly it almost hurts as he starts planting kisses on Alex's chest, his belly, nipping at his hip, before settling between his legs, bringing a hand to tentatively cup him through the knickers, as if the mere presence of the lace has turned everything delicate and fragile. Alex's breath hitches, hips shooting up instantly into the contact. "Ya better not have a heart attack right now." He breathes, spreading his legs even further to accommodate Miles between them. "I can't take you to the hospital like this."

Miles merely laughs, too entranced by the way Alex has started to leak already, forming a dark spot where's he's tenting the underwear to its absolute limit. He bends to suck on it, lap up the wetness with his tongue, and Alex bucks up into it, probably wired up from the moment he stepped into the tube into a naughty outfit. Miles licks across his entire length, the lace feeling bumpy and rough against his tongue, and Alex must be feeling it too from the other side, because his thighs twitch where they're caging Miles, and a near-pained moan ripples out of his throat. Miles kinda wants to draw it out, tease him with pain and pleasure a little more, but his impatience gets the better of him, so he pulls Alex roughly out of his confines, knickers still trapping his balls snuggly underneath. He takes in his state for a mere second, red and swollen, and then he promptly swallows him down and one practised move. 

"Fuck!" Alex cries out, and Miles lifts his gaze as he starts sucking him earnestly to see him looking down, entranced and pink-cheeked and devastatingly beautiful. His hair is even messier, like he ran his hands over it again and again, and Miles smiles around a mouthful when Alex gasps and bites his lip, hips desperately arching upwards. "Fuck, hold on," he sighs, and he sounds ravaged already. "I were supposed to be doing tha'. Get on me knees in me pretty skirt and make you feel good--" He's cut off by another moan when Miles pulls off when a final tight suck around the head. 

"Oh, I'm feeling pretty good, Alex." He crawls up his body again, giving him a bruising kiss, and Alex traps him there with a firm hand in his hair. Miles grinds his pelvis down against Alex's erection, giving Alex an idea of exactly how  _ good _ he's feeling, and giving himself some relief. They both gasp into each other's but they don't stop kissing, rocking against each other for a while longer while their limbs tangle further and further. "Besides," Miles rasps against Alex's cheek, licking all the way up to his ear. "I'm gonna get to fuck you, aren't I?"

Alex squirms again under him, but when their eyes lock his gaze is all lust and mischief. "Yeah," he grins, and Miles wishes he could take a picture right now, bottle up Alex forever in this state, giddy and horny and carefree. "Yeah, you are."

They scramble into position like they haven't touched each other in ages, Miles hastily peeling his sweaty clothes off and fishing out the lube from the coffee table drawer, stocked there after one too many impromptu sofa encounters were cut short because he had to run to the bedroom. When he looks back Alex is already on all fours, skirt-clad bum pushing eagerly into the air, and underneath his eyes are blazing, half-buried in the circle of his arms. Miles relishes the sight, the lace stretching over the swell of Alex's bum, cutting off at just the right parts to make his mouth water. He drops the lube on the cushion, moving his hands to splay on Alex’s cheeks, squeezing and moving them around just to watch them jiggle. Alex once accused him of having an arse fetish, but Miles disagrees; he considers it more of an appreciation of the finer things in life.

“Y’don’t have to finger me.” Alex says casually from where he’s pressed against the cushion, bum swaying along with Miles’ hands. “I already did that at home.”

The visual strikes him like an uppercut, making his teeth rattle. On impulse, he lands a wonky slap on Alex’s bum, making him yelp, event though Miles can see he’s still smiling cheekily. “Fucking full of surprises today.”

Alex hums, and Miles grabs the lube, spreading some hastily on two fingers. However thorough Alex may have been (and Miles hopes he was thorough, he hopes he stretched himself nice and wide, skirt fanning around his twitching hips--), he’s not about to go in without the slightest bit of warm-up. He unceremoniously shoves the knickers aside and pushes both fingers into Alex, and to his utter delight they sink right in. He starts pumping methodically, pulling a guttural moan from Alex, back muscles rippling when he hunches down to push back, and get Miles further in. “I told ya, I’m fine. Just fuck me please, come on Mi, I’ve been on edge all fuckin’ day.”

Miles doesn’t need to be told twice really, so he withdraws his fingers, taking a moment to slick himself and bite back a moan at the contact. Alex is so expectant below him, flushed and panting, and Miles is incredibly torn on whether to fuck him on his knees, so he can have the perfect visual of his little outfit, or crawl over him and get close, drink up the little fucked out gasps and moans right out of his mouth.

He nudges up and down Alex’s hole with the head a few times, just to ramp up the frustration, and just as Alex whines and Miles feels an expletive about to be thrown his way, he sheathes himself with a decisive push of his hips.

Alex keens, lower back arching wildly, and Miles lets the moment settle, and build. It’s his favourite part, this, that first plunge and the agonising seconds of adjustment, where everything feels heightened and magnetic; that moment of stillness before all their base instincts take over.

Alex snaps out of it first, setting his knees on the sofa, and rocking his hips backwards, working a rhythm with a faint gasp. Miles fists the sides of the skirt in his hands, using it as leverage to pull him back, and they fall into pace like working out a harmony, smooth and effortless. Alex can’t stop cursing harshly into the cushion, voice wavering every time Miles slams into him, and everything mounts and mounts towards the breaking point every time their hips connect. Miles knows Alex starts getting close when he throws his head back, torso forming a near perfect “u”, so he eggs him on, babbling encouragement.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well Al, baby, so fucking beautiful like this,” he rasps, half-unaware of what’s coming out of his mouth, near blind with sweat and arousal. “Come on, let me see you come all over those pretty knickers, like a good boy.” 

Alex gasps, whole body trembling, and then one hand shoots down out of sight, moving madly in tandem with Miles’ thrusts. Miles has no more than a few seconds to wonder if Alex is possibly hurting, the tiny garment chaffing and cutting into his skin the way it’s been pushed carelessly aside, but then Alex goes silent, shoving backwards one last time. Everything goes very still, and then he’s coming with a pained moan, spasming wildly around Miles’ cock. Miles tries valiantly to hold on and fuck him through it, but it’s too much, and he’s tumbling right behind him witha sharp groan, filling him up in long, shuddering pulses.

He collapses on top of him afterwards, and he’s pretty certain he dozes off for a few seconds before Alex elbows him back into alertness. “Get off, yer all gross and sweaty.”

Miles obliges him, pulling out with a sigh, and sliding down into the crook between Alex’s body and the back of the sofa. “I thought you liked me gross and sweaty.” 

Alex smiles, eyes closed as if he’s getting ready to fall asleep too. “Time and place.”

Miles mirrors his smile, and then bends down to press a soft kiss on Alex’s lips, which turns into two, and three when Alex keeps him there with a hand pinching his chin. “So,” Miles says when they finally pull apart, eyes raking over Alex’s wrecked form, and even more wrecked outfit, ”that was a lovely idea.”

Alex grins wide, cushioning his head in his forearms. “Proper crispy, would you say?”

“Absolutely.” Miles traces an idle finger over Alex’s sweaty flank, raising goosebumps along the way. “Can I ask something, though?”

Alex hums an affirmative. “Since I’d already told you I would be into that,” Miles says, “and you went into all this trouble to make it happen for me, why the hell did you walk in here like you were on death row?”

Alex doesn’t respond immediately, but his eyes open slowly, huge and dark on his face. “I just--” His voice is muffled under his arm, and he raises his head up, mouth suddenly contorted with something gloomy. “After everything that’s happened, I get this fear sometimes. That you’ll wake up and decide it’s not worth it anymore.”

Miles feels so indignant it propels his entire body up, raising him on his forearm to look at Alex from above. He almost wants to yell at Alex for being absurd, but then he realises with a start he’s been battling the same fear too, even letting himself be consumed by it, the moment Alex walked into the door looking slightly anxious.

“Al,” he says, trying to fit in all the tenderness he feels into the syllable. He presses another soft kiss on Alex’s mouth, this time more deliberate, and Alex lets out a tiny breath. “I’m not going anywhere, alright?” he breathes into the space between their lips. “No more games, or hesitation. I love you, and I’m here, and I will be for as long as you want me.”

Alex sucks in a deliberate breath, letting their noses drag together on the exhale. “What if I want it forever?”

Miles’ hand shifts back to splay on Alex’s back, and the sweat feels mighty inconsequential now, as Alex shifts closer to press their chests together. “Well, that’s a good thing, Mr Turner, ‘cause that was sort of my plan too.”

Alex looks angelic when he smiles again, and then their lips meet again, Alex’s arms snaking to keep Miles against him. They stay there, melted into an embrace until the hours blur into each other, and at some point Miles falls asleep, with Alex’s comforting weight settled on top of him.

This week has been momentous, but he’s confident it won’t hold a candle to all the weeks they have ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Barely Legal by the Strokes 
> 
> come talk to me at @gasdancer !!


End file.
